solid tiredness weighs on eyelids and fingers
electric suns stay bright while dawn mists behind the blinds
many hours spent, or wasted, it can seem the same
and your bed is calling you by name.
waking dreams... crawling dust and shadows
pin ****** of sound, like creaking, or alien birds in the sky
outside a universe, or inside a star, body-less
move toward danger, curious and careless.
resistance is a game, a futile pull towards control
don't care what the day is, time is nothing in the mind
burning fuel to warm myself, books of the past
but some day, not this one, will be my last.